Page 139 of Captive Ruin

“That Henry VIII was an asshole.”

Not what I was going for, but I nod, conceding the point. “Scarlett O’Hara.”

“Who?”

“From Gone with the Wind.”

Lucy looks incredulous. “Didn’t that come out during the war? I’m twenty-six, not a hundred and twenty-six.”

“Still, she had a sister, and—”

Lucy holds up a hand. “You’ve googled, I get it. None of that has a bearing on us.”

“Even today, marriages of convenience are approximately fifty-five percent of all marriages worldwide, and—”

“Stop. Just stop.” Lucy shakes her head. “It’s not about whether it’s been done before—and fine, I concede it has—it’s about you. About what you’re sacrificing.” Her voice drops, and tears well in her eyes. “For me, damn it. I can’t let you throw away your life for me.”

“He’s loaded,” I say, waggling my eyebrows. “He’s filthy, dirty, rich.”

Her lips purse and she dabs at her eyes with her napkin. “That’s just insulting,” she says at last, voice cold. “I know full well you don’t care about money, and if you think that would make me feel any happier about this, you’re dead wrong.”

Okay, that might’ve been a mistake.

“Sorry,” I mutter, picking up my wine and taking a sip, trying not to look at Tony who is eavesdropping on our conversation even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“I suppose it explains why we’re eating here.” She gestures at the opulent décor surrounding us. “And why you went for the most expensive dish on the menu. Do you even like caviar?”

“It’s an acquired taste.” That I haven’t yet acquired.

Lucy sighs. “Is there anything I can say to make you rethink this… foolishness?”

Like I don’t rethink it every day.

It’s been four weeks since our wedding, and Van Wyk’s been back twice, once for a night, once for—of all things—lunch with Lucy, which went about as well as can be expected, and is what led to this meeting.

Otherwise, I’ve barely seen him since we got married. Christmas is in five days. He must come home for that.

What scares me is that for the first few days following his visits, I miss him. But then time passes, and the missing fades. I get used to his absence, forget about all the cameras, and my life descends once more into the isolated drudgery of my captivity, where even the prospect of the heated swimming pool has lost its appeal.

Not least because it’s been snowing of late.

“Ammy?” Lucy prods.

I force a smile. “What foolishness? This way, we’re both safe, and I get to enjoy the finer things in life.”

She doesn’t look convinced, her eyes full of worry. “He never said what he did. He’s not into anything… illegal, is he?”

In my mind’s eye, Gold-Tooth stares at me with blood streaming from his cut throat, then flops face-down at my feet.

I take a mouthful of wine to cover my consternation. “Uh… security.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Security? And he’s ‘filthy, dirty rich’?”

“He’s a specialist,” I say, brushing it off with a gesture. “We don’t talk about it.”

“What do you talk about? Tell me about my brother-in-law. What drew you to him?”

He’s her brother.